Politics: Palliative Care for a Dying World

"O God, who cause the minds of the faithful
to unite in a single purpose,
grant your people to love what you command
and to desire what you promise,
that amid the uncertainties of this world,
our hearts may be fixed on that place
where true gladness is found."
--Collect prayer for Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Like many others, I am profoundly troubled in the wake of this recent election.  My disappointment is not simply with the outcome, though that is a source of great worry for me. 

On that count: I believe we have crossed into new territory as a country, and I feel enormous anxiety about the financial security and freedom of my children and their generation.  I hope I am completely wrong about this (my liberal friends assure me that I am, that we can tax the "rich" to pay for our enormous appetite for public benefits).  Time will tell, but I harbor no illusions that should even worse economic hardships come to pass that then Americans will understand the sources of our failure.  Just look at people of Greece right now, furiously clinging to a disaster of an economic policy, even in the face of their utter financial collapse.  We will likely go down in flames, fiddling while Rome burns, oblivious to the cause of our own undoing.  Again, I hope I'm wrong. 

None of this, however, is simply a result of this election.  America got lost a long time ago for reasons both political and non-political, and our political lostness can be blamed on both political parties equally. And politics will not fix what ails us.  Certainly the election of Mitt Romney would not have solved our core problems.

That's why moving forward, we (by which I really mean "I") need a thorough realignment of our attitude toward politics.  I need to shift the way I have related to politics all my life.

Politics is a near obsession for me, consuming enormous amounts of time and energy as I read, study, write, and argue about the best way to organize our economy and our government.  It's a reflection of my personality type, in part, and a life-long passion to feel as if I was doing my part to make the world a better place. 

But politics can become an idol, a means by which we start to think our human designs and efforts can remake the world according to the image we desire for it.  We focus on our own efforts and cling to the outcomes as if the most important things depend on it.  For Christians, this is sin, and it's a sin for which I personally need to repent.  It is not, in fact, my personally responsibility to ensure that the world complies with a particular political philosophy, or to convince by force of argument that others share my views.

Christians are called to look at things in a much broader context and perspective.  What is really most important is the condition of our individual souls and the way we love and serve others in the short time we have.  Civilizations will rise and fall.  Political regimes will come and go.  Some regimes will be more amicable to the Christian vision of life and society, others will be hostile.  In the end, the Word of Life will remain, and "principalities and powers" shall not separate us from It.  In ways we cannot fathom, and in a time beyond our own engineering, all things will be brought to resolution, and will not be because our candidate won (or lost) an election.

Which is not to say that Christians should withdraw from public life.  Finding a truly Christian way to engage with the world will actually be much harder for me than totally surrendering all responsibility as a citizen.  It will require me to be informed, to act when called to do so, whether that means by voting in elections or speaking up on issues as appropriate.  But I may no longer cling to the outcome of my actions as if the outcome is somehow the measure of my discipleship.  The only measure of my discipleship is the extent to which I surrender every aspect of my life to Christ's redeeming grace.  And that means responding to disappointing political turns, and even to the evil and darkness in the world, with dignity, patience, and compassion and love for others (especially those who disagree with me).

There's a recent parallel in my professional life that illustrates what I'm talking about here.  Richard Elmore, the great Harvard education professor, commented a few weeks ago that he no longer believes in the institutional structures of public schooling.  This, after a lifetime of working ferociously to improve the quality of teaching and leadership in schools.  Elmore has simply observed that schooling as we know it has outlived its usefulness, and thanks to its own internal dysfunctions, is dying a slow death.  Schools of the future will look nothing like they do today, Elmore suggests, and all our attempts to shore up the flaws of the current system will eventually be met with failure.

And still, he said he remains committed to his work in improving the practices of teachers and school leaders.  But he sees this work as "palliative care for a dying institution."  If Elmore is right, that's what I do for a living too - I'm caring for a dying institution.

There's nothing wrong with care of the dying.  It is, in fact, one of the corporal works of mercy Christians are called to perform.  But it would be foolish - it would be a sin, in fact - to think that we could, through our own efforts, prevent the death of the terminally ill, or to carry out our care of them as if they were going to live forever.

Just like Elmore's assessment of schooling, I believe (in fact, it is a matter of Christian faith), that our political structures and the world itself, are also dying a slow death.  These human institutions are full of the frailties and flaws of the people who create them and will not last forever.  Nothing in the created world will last forever.

This is not some kind of nihilism or deathwish on the part of Christians, though.  We also believe by faith that this world is blessed and full of light and life.  But all that goodness comes from a larger source, from the God who created it, and all the brokenness and emptiness of the created world will utlimately be redeemed and restored by that same Creator God.  Until then, we are called to care for our bodies, for our families, for society and the world, with compassion, love, and justice.  We are called to engage in politics, because it is one of the means by which we steward this precious world and the precious life we have been given. 

But we are not to think for a moment that our political efforts are establishing some kind of permanent regime of peace and justice (the great modern, secularist, liberal conceit).  That is not within our power or our responsibility.  Politics is palliative care, a corporal work of mercy, for a world that is passing away.

Others have said this better than me.  See the thoughts of Elizabeth Scalia, Fr. Dwight Longenecker, and Bruce Frohnen.  But it's important for me to state this for myself as well.

We are wounded as a nation.  Of course we are.  And I am wounded too, because of my personal sinfulness, as are all of you.  But that is not the end of the story.  There is a source of redemption, of light and life, that brings peace and love and mercy.  May I approach all of my obligations - religious, familial, social, and political - with the mercy and compassion of the God who, in the end, saves us all.